


Rain

by fizzysodas



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: Cats, Comforting, Domestic Fluff, Fire, Fluff, M/M, i blame the cat personally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 09:40:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9174130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzysodas/pseuds/fizzysodas
Summary: It was raining. Or it had been raining. For a whole week. The grass was fresh and full of water. The gravel roads were muddy and the skies were dark. The wind blew through trees and echoed off homes. The town was put to sleep.





	

_It was raining. Or it had been raining. For a whole week. The grass was fresh and full of water. The gravel roads were muddy and the skies were dark. The wind blew through trees and echoed off homes. The town was put to sleep and—_

“Philip!”

Sighing, Philip closed his laptop. His bare feet padding across the wooden floor and down the stairs. Lukas repeated his name again and he quickened his pace. He skirted stacks of paper, coffee mugs, and cleaning products. The house was a wreck. He needed to clean and sort through things. But he also wanted to finish his book.

A smokey smell filtered through the downstairs level. Philip scrunched up his nose and frowned. What the hell was Lukas doing? The cat ran out of the kitchen, her tail high in the air, and into the living room. Philip eyed the kitchen. Lukas called his name again and he walked in.

“Wh—Holy shit, Lukas”

The stove top was ablaze, the flames licking the microwave. Lukas was backed up against the sink, clutching a jug. Water was spilled across the floor. Philip rushed out of the kitchen, cursing and knocking things over he came back with an extinguisher.

“Damn it, Lukas, get out!”

“Okay, Okay,” muttered Lukas, backing up. “Should I call someone?”

“No!” snapped Philip, pulling the pin and aiming the nozzle at the stovetop.

The fire slowly died out, the spare flames dancing across the burnt oven handle. Philip splashed water on them and sighed. The microwave was burnt, the plastic peeling, and the stove top was destroyed. The oven door crisped and the counters smoky. Philip cursed. Then again, louder this time.

Footsteps stepped into the kitchen followed by a soft meow.

“Lukas, what the hell were you doing?” asked Philip, cradling his head in his hands and leaning up against the counter.

“Well,” muttered Lukas, “I was trying to make dinner and feed Beatrice.” He held up the cat, a fat Siamese with bright blue eyes, and shrugged.

“I hate that cat.” moaned Philip.

“Hey—“

“I mean it, Lukas!” exclaimed Philip, turning around to face Lukas. His face was red and he had tiny tears in the corners of his eyes. “I have to finish this book and  the house is a disaster and now—now I’ve got this huge mess!”

“Hey,” said Lukas softly. He dropped the cat, she ran off, like she knew she was in trouble, and stepped forward towards Philip. “You don’t have to do everything. I mean I can clean and worry about this.”

Philip nodded stiffly and Lukas wrapped his arms around him. Lukas awkwardly held on before Philip choked out a sob and leaned into the hug.

“Why did I take up writing professionally?” he sobbed into Lukas’ chest, “I love it. I love it so much. So much. But, know I hate it! I hate it!”

“I know. I know,” said Lukas, stroking Philip’s curly hair. It was longer now, winding around his neck and ears, Lukas spent hours running his fingers through it. Philip always said how he was going to cut it, but he never did.

Philip sobbing calmed to soft sniffles and wet tears. His eyes were thick and hooded, his lips were cracked, and his face was oily and gross.

“How about we go sit down?” offered Lukas, already leading Philip into the living room. Philip nodded, sniffling. Lukas pulled Philip head in his lap and continued to stroke his hair. Philip tucked his legs up on the couch and wrapped his arms around his head.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. His voice was raw from sobbing.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for not helping out more.”

“You’ve got Motorcross.”

“And you’ve got a book to write. So many fans too.” sighed Lukas dramatically.

Philip chuckled a little, “You’ve got fans too.”

“Only country punks and hillbillies.”

“Lukas…” he moaned, rolling over. He was grinning, though, his eyes bright and wet. His cheeks were red and streaked with tears. Lukas smiled, Philip was so beautiful. He told him so and Philip flushed.

“Hey, look,” said Lukas, sitting up. Philip sat up to, halfway in Lukas’ lap.

“What?”

“It’s raining.”


End file.
